THE DENVER EDITION – CHAPTER 1
Ruthie hobbled into the gallery the next morning hoping that she could get to her desk and sit down without being seen, but no such luck. "What the heck happened to you" she heard from the back. It was Jennifer, her friend and gallery co-owner, Marissa to her Gary. Although it felt a little weird comparing Jennifer to Marissa since Jennifer was pale, blonde and loud; three things that Marissa wasn't. Jennifer Green or Nifer to her friends had been a ski bum for a few years until her left leg had argued with the side of a mountain. The result wasn't pretty; in fact her shin had been so badly damaged that a few inches of leg had to be removed because the bone was too badly shattered to support it. Ruthie had met her when she had saved the woman from being mugged. Jennifer hadn't bought the usual excuses and had actually followed Ruthie the next day. She had confronted Ruthie that night and basically refused to take no for an answer when she had asked to help the younger woman out. So now Jennifer watched the Gallery and manned the phones so Ruthie could do whatever she needed to do. It was an arrangement that suited them both very well. The only problem was that Jennifer tended to be very protective of her young friend, and wasn't shy about telling the girl off if Jennifer felt she was acting rashly. That made for some epic tongue lashings, but Ruthie just smiled and took it, knowing that was how her friend expressed her concern.
"I tripped over some tracks in the train yard" she replied.
"Did everything else go alright?"
"Yeah, I even met a cute doctor afterwards."
"Really, how cute?"
"About five nine with sandy brown hair, medium to light build, he would have been a lot cuter but he just looked whipped; if he was a country song his dog would have just died, his girl left him and his truck would have four flats."
"That bad huh" Jennifer chuckled"so did you screw with his head a bit."
"I don't have any idea what you mean" Ruthie replied with a grin.
"I know you kiddo; you probably came on like a hooker at a millionaire's convention, just to get a response."
Ruthie's blush was answer enough "well, maybe I was a bit forward, but he so needed it."
"Did you give him your card" Jennifer asked.
Ruthie's blush deepened "yeah, I did."
Jennifer's mental eyebrows went up at that, she knew her friend flirted like the devil at times, just to get guys out of whatever funk they were in, but to the best of her knowledge, Ruthie had never gone beyond flirting, at least until now. "Why"
"I don't know, it just seemed the right thing to do."
"Fair enough, but if 'Prince Charming' drops by or calls, he is getting the third degree, get me?"
"Yes Mom" Ruthie said with a grin.
"Now before you get comfortable, the Post called and they want you down there to OK the layout."
Ruthie groaned "can't they just fax or e-mail a sample over?"
"Nope, they said they need you there, so you'd best get going unless you've got a busy day" she asked this nodding at the paper in Ruthie's hand.
"Light today, two phone saves and one hands on, and it's not till later this afternoon, I've got time to go over there now."
"Well then get going, and be careful kiddo."
"I will Nifer, see you later."
Ruthie went back out of thegallery and got into her SUV, her graduation present from the McGinty's gang; and headed for the Denver Post. She had been in town a month when she had actually been approached by the features editor and asked to basically do the same thing in Denver that she had done in Chicago. Working under Simon's principle that income was never a bad thing, she had agreed and was soon providing two to three sketches a week for the paper. Her only problem with the whole set up was that they seemed to think she was temperamental or something, so they made sure that she had final approval and oversight when any of her work went into the paper. She had tried to tell them on several occasions that she trusted their judgment, but it hadn't seemed to work, they still called her down so she could look at the proofs. She hobbled into the lobby, and walked right past the security check, all the guards knew her anyway; and made her way to the second floor. She soon found the proofs on the editor's desk; it would have been nicer if the man had actually been there himself. The layout looked fine; Ruthie debated on just leaving a note to that effect or waiting for the editor to return so she could say it to his face, when she had an idea. She noticed that the guy's terminal was still on, so she searched the paper's database for information on 'Doug Howser'. She found quite a few articles, mostly where he was listed as the 'physician of record' in an obit or commenting on some wreck or disaster, but there were some that talked about his community service, and the things he had done for people around him. But these kind of articles stopped a bit over a year ago, and nothing since then.
Something had happened, she realized, something bad that had somehow managed to leach all the life out of him. There was no mention in the paper's files of anything during that time frame, so it must have happened somewhere other than Denver. Ruthie stopped for a second, what was she really thinking about. She was mucking about in some stranger's personal life, how was what she was doing different from what Janet had done to her?
Realizing that it wasn't, she deleted all of the articles. If she and the doctor ever got together (unlikely); she would have to trust him to tell her about what had happened in his past. And if they had some sort of serious relationship (very unlikely), she would have to wait until he decided he needed help for her to help him deal with it. She stopped herself right there, why was she even thinking about Doug and a relationship. True she hadn't exactly been romance girl since her sophomore year of college but her life was going quite well thank you; so why was she all the sudden thinking relationship with a guy she had just met. A guy who acted like he needed a relationship about as much as a fish needed a bicycle. She looked around in annoyance, the editor still wasn't there; reflexively she checked the paper and realized that this would be a great time for her two phone saves. Without even thinking about it, she picked up the editor's phone and dialed out.
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"What ya mean my sign's about to fall off?"
I was walking by there and saw the chain was all rusted and looking like it was about to bust. I was in a hurry so I didn't stop then, but I figured I'd call and tell you. After all, you don't want it to hit someone so you get sued do you?"
"What are you, a lawyer or something?"
"Something like that" Ruthie replied.
"Well you ain't getting any money out of me, you damned blood sucker."
"Well I hope you're right" Ruthie said "but if someone gets hurt, and I can swear that you were warned, well you can imagine how that would look to a jury."
"Friggin' lawyers, they ought ta hang the lot of ya; you know that?"
"I've heard that once or twice before" she gave a theatrical sigh "I just hope your sign is OK on a windy day like this." She winced as the phone was slammed in her ear. She looked at the paper and saw that the story had changed. She smiled to herself, phone saves were the best in her opinion. Well on to number two.
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"Doctor Woodward, pick up line two" the voice said over the intercom at Denver Memorial Hospital.
"Yes" a harried voice picked up the phone "this is Doctor Woodward, you better speak fast, I need to be in the OR soon."
"No problem Doctor, I was just calling to make sure you kept a good count of your instruments today, I know dealing with a new grandson can be a bit of a distraction."
"I'm sorry, but who is this and how did you know I've got a new grandson?"
"Oh, I'm a friend of Doctor Howser's, he mentioned the grandson, and my brother is a doctor and he told me a story once about a doctor that was getting ready to meet his grandchild for the first time and actually left his watch in the patient. So I thought you might need to be reminded, or warned, however you want to look at it."
"Very well, consider me warned, now what is your name young lady?"
"Darn, is that the time. Sorry Doctor, I've got to go, and shouldn't you be prepping right now." And with that she hung up the phone.
The doctor cast a rather jaundiced glance at the phone, then hung it up and went to scrub.
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Back at the Denver Post, Ruthie saw the second story change. Now all she had to deal with was a house fire and she would be done for the day. She had gotten sick of waiting for Mike the editor and was getting up from his desk when he walked in. Initially he looked upset that someone had been at his desk, but when he saw who it was he actually turned pale, like he was afraid of Ruthie. He took a second to gather his wits and said "sorry I wasn't here when you got here Ruth; how are you today?"
"Not bad Mike, the layout and proofs look fine."
"That's a relief, you're sure."
"Yeah great, was there anything else?"
"Actually yeah there is, would you want a full time job. Working here in features, you'd be fairly autonomous, but you would be exclusive to the paper."
Ruthie realized that the last bit was what was really important. "Nah, the current set up is good for me, but if you're concerned we could adjust my contract so that I can't do any work for any other publication without the paper's say so."
"You'd agree to that" Mike asked, relief evident in his voice.
"Sure, I'll still do private contracts, but no published work without approval."
"Thanks Ruth, the Muckity-Mucks were worried you'd go somewhere else, and with that loose excuseof a contract, it wouldn't be too hard for you to get away from here or to do something else if you wanted."
"Well, I do like the flexibility, but I don't mind being tied to you all; just have them draw it up with a renewal every two years and we should be golden."
"Whatever you say Ruth, I'll give you a call when we need something else."
"Great, see ya around Mike." And with that, she limped out of his office and out of the paper.
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Ruthie went back to her place for lunch, and to ice her ankle before she would have to use it during the fire save. She was met at the door by Quark. That's what she had named the dog that came with the paper. She knew that Cat had been pretty much a come and go as he pleased type of critter, but Quark just seemed content to hang out in her apartment and rack out in whatever sun-beam presented itself. She called the dog Quark for two reasons. One was that his face; with all the whiskers and brows, reminded her of the character from Star Trek DS9;which had been one of her favorite shows growing up. And because on the few times he got excited, the dog bounced around like his namesake particle. So Quark it was, and for an animal, mystical in origin or not, he was pretty low maintenance.
She got out his leash and the two of them went out into the Denver mid-day. After a leisurely stroll down to a park, Ruthie and Quark headed back to her apartment building. While she had been walking, her thoughts had turned to the doctor yet again. Ruthie had come up with some ways for snapping the guy out of his funk, the problem was she didn't know how flexible he was. Best to start slowly she thought, maybe bowling or the planetarium; something less threatening than a Goth bar or Karaoke. The one thing that surprised her about the whole situation was her certainty that he'd take her up on her offer. She had no idea why she was so sure, but she was.
Before she entered her building, she stood back and just looked at it, this was actually something she did quite often. If she could have designed the perfect place for her to stay, this would have been it. A modest eight story brownstone that was shaped like a U so that there was a central court yard; it had been built back in the twenties. It was near to the heart of downtown, but not right there. In other words, it was close enough to everything without being engulfed by all the high-rises and office towers. Ruthie lived in the studio apartment on the top floor. She had thought long and hard about turning part of the gallery into an apartment for herself, but ultimately had rejected the idea. She was trying to create a life for herself separate from the paper, or at least adjacent to it, so she had a place separate from her jobs, a place where she could rest and charge her batteries.
She took her eyes from her building and headed on up to her place, sharing the elevator with Mrs. McGowan, a widow who lived on the fifth floor. When she got to her apartment she turned Quark loose and checked her answering machine; alas no messages. She checked the paper to see if anything had changed about the fire or if any new headlines had cropped up. A quick scan showed her that nothing had changed and there wee no new stories for her to deal with. Steeling herself, she walked out of her place and headed down the stairs. She hoped this save would go smoothly, she didn't know if she could handle five dead kids on her conscience.
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It didn't look like a bad place, just a random house in the 'burbs where a single mom was running a day care out of her home. For whatever reason, in about five minutes, the day care lady would be distracted just as one of the kids in her care was discovering the joys of matches. The lady (her name was Sheila Barrett) would try to get the fire out and when that didn't work she would try to get the kids out. But by then it would be too late and they would all succumb to the smoke. Sheila and a couple of the kids would be saved by the firemen, but five would die. Well, unless Supergirl could do anything about it Ruthie thought.
She checked the paper again and walked up to the front door and knocked. A young girl of about 5 cracked open the door and peaked out, Ruthie fell in love with her sky blue eyes and crouched down. "Hello there" she said to the kindergartener.
"Who are you" the girl asked.
"My name is Ruth and I work for the city; I need to speak to Ms. Barrett right away please."
The girl continued to stare at Ruthie for a moment or two, then she ran back into the house yelling for 'Ms. Shiela' the entire way.
Ruthie stood up and waited, and in about a minute she was face to face with a rather harried looking woman. "Can I help you" the woman asked.
Ruthie flipped out an ID "my name is Anne Sexton and I'm an inspector for the city". The ID looked real enough, although it was in fact a fake. Ruthie had found out early on that if you had the right ID, the job of saving people got a lot easier. She had been checking out a band that one of the Gallery patrons had recommended when she heard a deal going down behind her. Whoever it was was selling forged documents. As soon as his clients had left, she turned around and met Anatoly. He was a former KGB agent that had emigrated about ten years ago. He had made fake documents for his country, and now he used that skill to supplement his income. Ruthie had requested three city ID's; ones that identified her as an inspector. Ruthie had found that people were less likely to question someone if possible reprisals could come from the person being questioned. So now she could be 'Anne Sexton' with the Human Services department; 'Kate McKellar' with the department of Water and Power; or 'Eve Grace' with the department of Education. These three ID's could get her practically anywhere she needed to be, and the names were indeed names of former employees of these departments, so that reduced the likelihood of a hassle.
"Is there a problem" Sheila asked.
"No ma'am" Ruthie answered "we sometimes do drop in inspections just to keep on top of things; today you just happened to draw the short straw today; could I come in please and meet the children?"
"Certainly" Ms. Barrett said, but with a note of trepidation in her voice. Ruth stood there in the entrance hall, stealing glances at the paper while she was alone. Suddenly she heard an outburst from another room "Ronnie Grogan, what do you think you're doing. Do you want me to tell your mother what I found you with? I had better not ever catch you with these things again, are we clear?"
Ruthie couldn't hear what the boy said, only his wailing at the prospect of his mother being told. Sheila came back herding the kids and explaining that she had caught one of her charges playing with matches.
Ruthie said she understood, and thought that Ms. Barrett had handled it properly. She then crouched down and asked the kids a few perfunctory questions, just to make it look good, and stood back up. "Well everything seems to be fine here Ms. Barrett, you have a good day." With that she was out the door and done for the day.
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She had headed to her place to let Quark out agian, and then she was on to the Gallery; she had to fill Nifer in on what had happened that day and take care ofwhatever paperwork that she had to handle. Then she spent some quiet time just talking to her friend. It was her favorite part of the day, just kicking back with her bud and solving the world's problems.
"I'm heading out to dinner" Nif said "you wanna come or want me to bring you anything?"
"Nah" Ruthie replied "I wanted to do some work tonight, so I'll just hang here. You know me, I like the quiet."
"You mean you just like playing loud music without having to listen to me complain."
"Well, that too" she said with a laugh "see ya tomorrow Nifer."
"See ya Ruthie, do good work tonight."
"Just my best" the girl answered as the door closed. Ruthie went to the back of the gallery where she had a studio set up. Needless to say it had the obligatory sound system and the ever eclectic music collection that Ruthie required to do her best work. She was working on the sunset in a painting, so she put on some Billie Holiday and changed into her usual jeans and a concert T-shirt. She had been working about half an hour when she heard the bell over the door jingle, indicating that someone had entered the Gallery. It was unusual to have someone come in this late in the day.
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He had been pacing on the sidewalk in front of the address for ten minutes. He wanted to just walk in and take her up on her invitation to do something together; it had been quite a while since he had been on a date. But he was afraid. Of what he wasn't quite sure; maybe it was simply fear of being rejected, or perhaps it was a fear that his judgment was off. Reasons aside, he was afraid, and that was why he was pacing, arguing with himself as to whether or not he should take the chance and just open the door. Suddenly, without conscious thought, he found himself walking through the door, much to his horror. He was thinking about doing a quick turnaround when the bell attached to the door gave a little jingle. "I'll be right with ya" a voice from the back of the Gallery called out and he cringed, glaring at the bell in betrayal. Whoever it was wasn't in a hurry apparently so he was idly looking at the paintings in the gallery when she appeared. She was dressed in paint spattered jeans and a black T-shirt promoting someone or something called 'Green Day'; her curls were an unruly brown mop on her head and just like before he thought she was simply beautiful.
For a second he thought her face brightened in recognition, but he put that thought down as wishful thinking "hey Doc didn't expect to see ya so soon."
"Well I thought about what you said and decided that there's no time like the present. That and I wanted to make sure the ankle's OK."
A playful grin appeared "why doctor, making house calls despite hospital policy, my you are a rebel."
He blushed just a little and said "mostly I just wanted to see you again." As soon as it was out of his mouth he was screaming at himself for being so blunt, so obvious, so stupid as to even think she would be flattered. However, for some reason she did look flattered; she might even be blushing; was that possible?
"Thanks Doug, the ankle is fine and I'm glad you wanted to see me again. I've got about five minutes of clean up to do in the back; you can come on back if you want or just wait out here, your call."
"I'll come on back if I won't be in the way."
"You won't, and it'll give me someone to talk to."
He watched as she put the closed sign up and locked the front door, then followed her to the back, he wasn't prepared for what he saw. Paintings, dozens of paintings, some abstract, some modern, some in a very classical style; but they all had one commonality, they were brilliant. "These yours" he asked.
"Of course" she answered in what he thought of as a 'Duh' voice. Then he made the connection "you're the Ruth Camden".
"Well I'm a Ruth Camden" she answered with an impish grin "we're not as common as John Smith's but there are a couple of us out there. If you're asking if I'm Ruth Camden the noted artist, then the answer is yes, I am."
"I read an article on you a couple of month's ago in 'People' they called you the 'pixie Picasso' or something like that."
Ruthie's shoulders hunched a bit "that's exactly what they called me, and I came close to going postal when I read it."
"Why, I mean it is a bit cutesy, but I've heard worse."
"It makes me sound, I don't know, I guess pretentious is the word; like I'm full of myself or something. I want people to see me as just a person, not as some damn buzzword that allows them to put me in some category in their heads."
"I can relate" Doug said with complete sincerity. Looking to change the subject he asked "so what are you wanting to do tonight?"
"I was thinking the Planetarium."
"Really" he asked a bit surprised "and you called me a rebel."
Her head jerked up at that, she hadn't expected to be teased, or the warm smile that was on Doug's face. Smiling back, she just stuck her tongue out at her date, rinsed her hands in the sink and together they headed out into the Denver night.